


Wherever You Will Go

by SportsBoiz (DigimonDestined)



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Character Study, Friends to Lovers, Humor, I finished my newest fav fandom and i've been crying forever, M/M, Relationship Study, SO, here's my contribution!, i absolutely love all the characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-05 12:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18366260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigimonDestined/pseuds/SportsBoiz
Summary: After they win, Takekura makes him sit down again. Mamori fixes up the bandages that had loosened with her eyes still red and Takekura calls him names, this time, aloud, and to his face. Hiruma laughs at every one of them, but he still winces when she accidentally puts too much pressure and Takekura hates Hiruma's such an idiot. He knows there's no such thing as 'stopping Hiruma', he knows that Hiruma will always do the impossible, but he still officially decides Hiruma's genius status needs to be revoked and replaced with Biggest Dumbest Dumbass Ever.When she leaves, Takekura says, "Hiruma. Don't do that again."He grins up at him, apparently more demon than ever. "Are you my mom now?"It's an odd feeling of disassociation, hearing the mouth that usually belongs to him say, "Nah, I like you in a different way."The other's eyes only widen for a bit but Takekura turns, ready to leave the room. But he still hears Hiruma say, "Interesting." His tone is so hard to read. "Are you going to elaborate?"Maybe there are studies on the relationship between adrenaline and stupidity; Takekura says, "We'll see." A pause, and then, "Let's win the Christmas Bowl.""..yeah. Of course."





	1. If I Could, Then I Would...

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely loved Eyeshield 21 to a fault. It was a masterpiece and like a great work, it impacts you permanently. I'm so grateful I got to read it, and readers of my works; please check it out in your spare time! I promise you, you'll love it.
> 
> This work is dedicated to creativity and imagination; thanks for allowing people to spot you, even as elusive we feel like you are at times :P
> 
> The Calling - Wherever You Will Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What did you want, old man?" In the empty classroom, Hiruma sits on a desk, body relaxed, legs gently swinging over the edge. With his head angled at the window overlooking the football field below, the wild wave of his hair overshadows his eyes and the usual pink bubble gum hides his lips. The light of the sun makes both silver rings on his right ear twinkle.
> 
> "What do you think?" says Takekura, and he doesn't realize his voice has lowered to practically be categorized as a husk. Approaching Hiruma is an unconscious instinct. One step, two steps, and then he is standing in front of the other. "I thought we decided you were the smart one."
> 
> Hiruma's leg swinging slows to a halt. It's like he is inviting Takekura to close the remaining distance; Takekura doesn't take it. "Are you trying to seduce me?" he turns, brow raised. He looks more unimpressed than amused. And above all, unsurprising. Takekura doesn't take the portrayed invitation, because above all, Hiruma's cautious and he's okay with being patient.
> 
> "...Depends, is it working?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely loved Eyeshield 21; it's one of those things that will impact you forever.

Gen Takekura is a patient person. When he knows something is worth waiting for, he'll wait. He promises he will, will do whatever it takes to get there, and then he follows through.

 

\--

 

In middle school, Takekura agrees to join Kurita and Hiruma for 3 major reasons.

One, a hobby sounds okay. His grades are pretty decent and when he's not doing work, the loneliness is a little boring. So maybe football can be his hobby, or something.

Two, it would be rude to go against the level of the effort they put in, first. practicing as much as they do for a two-man team trying to play a sport so undominant in Japan in middle school, and second, trying to persuade him to join. They persevere, Takekura will give them that. And maybe that's all a person ever needs, he thinks, biking home, standing up because it's faster, easier when going uphill; just generally a good workout for his legs. Either way, he likes how they work.

Three, the more they persist, they more he learns about them. And what he finds out makes them gradually more endearing rather than annoying. Maybe it's their unusual relationship dynamic? Hiruma bullies Kurita the way an older sibling might bitch at his more submissive brother. And that's the thing; under careful studying, Takekura deducts the fact that in an odd way, they do think of their bond as brotherhood. Maybe he has a subconscious interest in getting in on it;

 

All he knows is the realization of being right when he laughs and says, "No, I meant you guys look fun."

 

\--

 

Hiruma is the most interesting guy Takekura thinks he's ever met. Possibly, will ever meet.

With his wit and determination, he's a master of everything. Which is why Takekura finds it so strange Hiruma guards himself so fiercely _,_  puts such a vast wall of defense around himself behind his heavy-duty offensive maneuvers. What does one so strong need to hide so _desperately_?

Getting close is gradual but it's not slow; it's simply a thing that happens, not something Takekura makes any single minuscule effort in pushing for. But he does revel in the trust Hiruma places in him. There have been occasions when Hiruma will text and right from the word choice, Takekura  _knows_. 

 _yo. fucking old man_ , means  _what's-up--hey-i-have-an-idea-for-more-chaos_

But  _Musashi,_  with the capital makes Takekura tap across his cellphone's pad until he can press it against his ear and say, "Hi", and then distract Hiruma as best as he can. Because Hiruma is a genius, a boy brilliant on his own stage, it doesn't always work. But because Takekura has learned to know him, it increasingly  _does_.

 

And all while Takekura recognizes and revels in the trust Hiruma has given in him, he usually figures out like a follow-up question; that everything is hella mutual; that Hiruma knows he has to work for the next two days so he's skipping last period of class for both days, _so let me know what I miss in class,_ and if he's picking his ear it means he's not serious because apparently, (according to Hiruma), not only is he a  _terrible actor_ but he also telegraphs and so, _you'd make a horrendous liar, which means if we were to ever be in a fight, of any kind, I'd kick your ass completely,_ Hiruma deadpans, staring straight at the other when they'd still been the same height.

Life is good, football is awesome, and Kurita and Hiruma are fun.

One day, Takekura officially decides Kurita is also his little brother. He's such a pure  _kid_ , it's kind of warming there are still guys like him. Homeroom with them is usually preceded by hanging out in the courtyards or showing up to class just a couple of minutes before they're late, and from there, it's mostly a little review/comparison of notes. Even if Hiruma's a genius, Takekura's pretty smart himself and is usually enough to help Kurita understand more difficult concepts. The rest of the day goes by pretty fast. Sometimes they'll even practice at lunch if it's warm enough; when it's not, they'll sit together and even if they're not interacting, the company is something Takekura will always appreciate without comment.

On another day, this girl comes up to him in the hallway, short and pretty in the normal sense with brown silky hair swept into a high ponytail and an even figure with a soft-shouldered frame and long, slender legs, and eyes twinkling with confidence and daring as she speaks to him. Hiruma would like that, _will like her_ , Takekura thinks, as she leaves, as he walks towards homeroom, footsteps quiet, head light. He's a bit thrown for a loop, for some reason he doesn't really understand; the confession letter between his fingers pulses hotly. It's not like Hiruma's not attractive- which in full honesty, is the main factor people their age really focus on- because he _is_. Kinda. But there are so many odd quirks and complicated components that comprise Hiruma's personality, maybe Takekura never figured someone else would like them, would like Hiruma's personality, _would like Hiruma_  the way Takekura does.

"Yo, fucking old man."

The voice is practically right against his back; Takekura does a dumb twirl, a mix of a jump and a turn and suddenly, the letter he's got pressed between the pads of his finger is...not there.

"Confession letter?" cackles Hiruma, head thrown back, a typical leather football tucked against one hip. One corner of the outer envelope is pinched in his free hand as he tilts it back and forth slowly.

"Hiruma-" Takekura starts and then doesn't finish. What is there to say? Hiruma has his letter now. Takekura doesn't need to deliver it anymore. He can go to homeroom without it now, give Hiruma the decency of the right to read it before he decides on what to do.

_Kcchhhh._

Fast as lighting, Hiruma tears the letter in half, down the horizontal side.

"Hiruma-" he finds himself blurting.

"Kekeke!" The laugh is loud and rich and so  _so_ Hiruma, who takes both pieces in his hand and rips them together, into quarters. His eyes flick up so he can capture and gauge Takekura's expression, then he shreds quarters into eighths, still laughing, "Kekekekeke!" When he apparently thinks the pieces are small enough, he stalks over to the nearest recycling bin and lets the pieces drift in, small meaningless grains of sand sinking underneath gravity. When he faces Takekura again, his eyes gleam. "I can't have some girl stealing my favorite kicker away! You'd spend way too much time _not_ practicing, don't you think, Musashi?"

 _I_ not  _we._ _Favorite_ not  _best._

Takekura raises a brow. "I'm your only kicker, stupid."

"Watch how you talk to your captain." Hiruma scolds. Like a damn magician, he pulls out a revolver from his pocket suddenly. "And look at my newest baby!"

"Put that away before you get in trouble," he says, starting to walk to homeroom again. Without the dumb envelope in his hand, he feels a lot more at ease. Hiruma is right of course, a relationship would distract any good athlete, especially considering how they have to put in a lot more dedication to make up for being such a small team. "You're such a-" he stalls.

Hiruma prods him with the gun. "Hey, man with a gun over here? Don't piss him off, smart guy." And then he starts walking, taking the lead. "Now let's go."

Takekura follows, walking away from the recycling bin, the letter, the moment. But he never quite forgets. In the weeks accompanying, he catches himself thinking about Hiruma's swift glance of the envelope, the name, addressed to him and not Takekura, more times than probably necessary.

 

\--

 

First year of high school is great. Until it isn't.

 

\--

 

"I'll blackmail the principal into adding some money-"

"No."

"Musashi-"

"No."

"Think about it-"

"No."

"Aren't you afraid of the Devil's Handbook-"

Takekura keeps his eyes on Hiruma's neatly written notes, having missed class to go home to work early. A breeze tries to lift the page off the courtyard table but he keeps it pinned. "The book is blank; everything is in your memory." He snaps another photo with his cell phone and flips the lined sheet onto the other side. "And you won't do it anyways."

"Why not." Hiruma says, not asks, because he can.

"For the same reason you didn't when you were trying to get me to play football."

"Because I didn't have any dirt on you?"

Takekura sighs. "No, because you wanted a comrade." Those words, the term, have always stayed with him. "So you won't do it now because you respect me and my decisions. Because our friendship is apparently more important than your insatiable want to win."

"Keke. Apparently or obviously, hm?"

Takekura studies Hiruma closely. The other meets his gaze evenly, content, but he's not being facetious. "...sorry." Takekura says, sliding Hiruma's page back to him. "I forgot; sometimes you're not an asshole."

Hiruma smirks as they walk to class. Really, they both know Takekura wasn't as serious as he was simply unsure; he feels pretty great for the rest of the day.

 

\--

 

Sena, Monta, all the newer members are interesting. In skill, all of them are decent or simply exceptional.

Takekura can't help but think, this might really be their year.

Hiruma hurls a long-distance pass but he actually turns away from the target, shooting Takekura a grin. It widens when Monta affirms his prediction with a loud yell,  _catch MAX._ Takekura smiles back.

He can't lie, he's really excited too.

 

\--

 

The day Gen Takekura figures out he likes Youichi Hiruma is a day when they have a game, obviously. The moment? Well, technically, there are three steps to it. The first, is when they are huddling up and Hiruma yells, "We didn't come here to defeat them, we came here to  _KILL THEM_ ," and everyone else yells with him. Takekura loves the moment because he sees a whole team, a group of people he's come to like, having been brought together by Hiruma. The second, is when they actually beat Shinryuji. They've fought so hard against Agon, against all his bullshit; now they're receiving their reward.

Takekura looks at Hiruma then and knows it; with Hiruma, everything is rewarding.

 

 

\--

 

Takekura knows he's not the type to pine. So it's really annoying when he learns, he is.

 

\--

 

After Gaou breaks Hiruma's arm, it takes a lot of his control not to just throw off his helmet and chase after the medical staff carrying him in a simple stretcher. His resolve to stay is because Kurita is ready to cry and the rest of team looks at him, hoping he's got the answer.

In his head, he curses Hiruma a couple dozen times, because they'd talked about it, without Mamori, and once with Mamori and still, that stubborn bastard made him promise to keep playing, to lead the team forward, to take them to the Bowl. He said yes because he couldn't say no, not when Hiruma held his gaze so fiercely. Still, he keeps to his promise, and they continue best as they can.

 

When Hiruma tries to come back onto the field, Takekura nearly punches him back into bed. He doesn't though, only because Hiruma looks at him with a smirk, hiding the pain behind the words, "Good job, fucking Musashi."

 

After they win, Takekura makes him sit down again. Mamori fixes up the bandages that had loosened with her eyes still red and Takekura calls him names, this time, aloud, and to his face. Hiruma laughs at every one of them, but he still winces when she accidentally puts too much pressure and Takekura hates Hiruma's such an idiot. He knows there's no such thing as 'stopping Hiruma', he knows that Hiruma will always do the impossible, but he still officially decides Hiruma's genius status needs to be revoke and replaced with Biggest Dumbest Dumbass Ever.

When she leaves, he says, "Hiruma. Don't do that again."

He grins up at him, apparently more demon than ever. "Are you my mom now?"

It's an odd feeling of disassociation, hearing the mouth that usually belongs to him say, "Nah, I like you in a different way."

The other's eyes only widen for a bit but Takekura turns, ready to leave the room. But he still hears Hiruma say, "Interesting." His tone is so hard to read. "Are you going to elaborate?"

Maybe there are studies on the relationship between adrenaline and stupidity; Takekura says, "We'll see."

A pause, and then, "Let's win the Christmas Bowl."

"...yeah, of course."

 

They don't talk about it again. The reason? To Takekura, it feels like Hiruma made him promise, so now he has to follow through; then they'll discuss it.

But from then on, they spend more time together. Hiruma will suggest they practice some more after official practices with the team finish, Takekura will work on a the tasks his father has delegated with heavy fervor and then rush to get to the latest weird place Hiruma wants them to check out. At lunch, they'll sit alone, whether they are studying, watching a movie, or listening to music. Sometimes they'll talk, sometimes they won't- sometimes Hiruma will make Takekura stretch his legs out, and then proceed to lay his head across them.

It's gradual but the others start to join them. At first, it's just one or two of them, maybe Mamori and Yukimatsu, and then suddenly, there are days where it's basically all of them. Takekura feels oddly protective of the situation; of being alone with Hiruma, but no one comments at all.

(Takekura know Hiruma probably made it a closed topic, then started trying to shoot Sena in the ass again.)

All in all, things are pretty great.

 

\--

 

Today, it's just him and Hiruma.

They're sitting together on one giant green beanbag, or rather, Hiruma is sitting and Takekura has propped himself up on an elbow.

They've taken residence in their usual corner of the library, sitting together on one giant green beanbag in their usual corner in the library, which is kinda public in Takekura's opinion. But no one really bothers them. (All the students are too afraid of Hiruma and have too much respect for Takekura. But mostly the first one.) 

Today is also apparently one of the days where Hiruma tries to hold a deep conversation with Takekura to get more information rather than actually trying to enjoy discourse like normal people. But he's trying too hard, so when Hiruma leans in, pressing his shoulder against Takekura's, he just picks his ear and gives stupid answers. 

After he innocently grumbles, "Uh...four?" Hiruma thwacks him in the gut and he makes a surprised grunt, before following it with snickers. "You should do your bench press again, Captain, 's like you've gotten weaker."

"Ha ha, so funny." Takekura marvels at how warm Hiruma is, not his sarcasm. But then he mutters something underneath his breath that has Takekura's interest.

"Huh? What was that?"

Hiruma turns his head to look at him. Their heads are so close together, it's not Takekura's fault his eyes flick down to pretty lips just a shade darker than the pink bubble gum Hiruma works on. "I  _said_ , fucking old man who's losing his hearing," Hiruma's voice turns sweet and saccharine. "'It's not my fault your nice abs are so hard."

Takekura makes a sound a cross between a snort and a cough. "Hiruma- god- don't say crap like that-"

"Not crap, dumb fucking old man." Hiruma laughs, but before Takekura can investigate, he cuts away from that topic. "Now play my game."

"Isn't everything with you a game?" sighs Takekura melodramatically. Hiruma shifts, sitting more upright so he's taller than the other and the beads of the beanbag musically slide towards the other's side.

Hiruma leans over and sticks a skinny finger into Takekura's chest with the tone it's a barrel and he's holding Takekura at gunpoint. "What's your favorite quote?"

He doesn't say anything for a while, pretending he's thinking, like he doesn't already have it on his tongue already, doesn't always have it burning in his chest. But Hiruma pokes him hard again, he he turns his head and at point-blank, watching every part of Hiruma's face when he says, "'Even if it's only 0.1 percent, take it. As long as the probability isn't 0, take the chance.'" Then he clears his throat and tries to do Hiruma's laugh; it comes out so horribly atrocious, it should be a crime against humanity.

Himura stays silent, head tilted down.

"Hey. Commander." Takekura says, leaning closer so he can get a better look. "Hell Commander, come in." Hiruma exhales, expression twisting one way and then the other, fighting between looking unaffected and showing how pleased he is. 

"Might be paraphrased, but you know." Takekura shrugs, unable to stop the corners of his mouth pulling up, grinning up at the other. "Same meaning and all. Honestly, it's one of the few sayings I really believe in. Not to mention the guy that said them is someone I believe in too."

Hiruma moves so fast, Takekura barely realizes the warm lips covering his are there, before suddenly they're not; the blond is pulling back, pushing off the ground, getting to a stand.

Takekura sits up, mouth hanging open at a back of black t-shirt and ears flushed red.

"Fucking old man," he hears being muttered, low and hissed, almost furious but without any real heat. "Fucking fuck, fucking Musashi fuck." From where he is, even as Hiruma walks away, Takekura only has to let one little happy laugh slip for Hiruma to start snapping, "Be at practice so I can kick your dumb ass, Gen!" 

For practice, the captain murders three-fourths of the team by making them run until they drop, yells at everything from Cerberus to the equipment for linebackers and absolutely refuses to go near Takekura for the whole duration. On the other hand, Takekura doesn't think he stops smiling even once. 

Things are great.

 

\--

 

Everyone knows. Everyone on the field, everyone in the stadium; all of the spectators are true fans of the game, if not players themselves. The only way to win is a field goal.

Everyone also knows 60 yards...

"...it's impossible. Hiruma...it's so unlike you, someone who only believes in numbers." Takekura feels the same desperation clawing at him the other does. And of course, they get it differently from the rest of the team; the juniors have come to depend on their captain and his surprise moves. But right now, Takekura knows...His voice is still low, strained, murmuring, "Even during practice. I've never scored a field goal further than 55 yards away."

Some of the others must hear him, because he hears Sena concernedly whisper, "Musashi-san..." and it adds more guilt on his ass because for everything he promised alongside Kurita and Hiruma...they're now here at the Bowl. But to win...

Hiruma's eyes narrow; it's one of his subtle signs of weakness; when he's challenged, desperate. "We created it to go to the Christmas Bowl, no matter what. You, me, and Kurita, just the three of us. The Deimon Devil Bats." Now, he laughs and it's not his gleeful,  _kekeke_ , it's an attempt to swath his vulnerability with friendly, humored recollection. "At the time you left the team, do you know how much... _Kurita_  hit things in despair? And when he was out of things to hit, do you know how much he screamed?" His laugh is cracked; there is a shadow overtaking his face. "Kurita...do you know how much Kurita was..." The Hell Commander is distressed, weakened- and it's even showing.

He doesn't even mention how they could've bested the Americans; how they could've destroyed the Gunmen if he was a little faster, came back a marginal bit earlier; how they've been taking on the whole world and standing on equal footing; how Hiruma needs him. He doesn't mention any of it, because he doesn't need to; Takekura already knows.

Takekura understands everything Hiruma tries to say but can't.

_Takekura wants to let him know it'll be okay._

 

"Youichi." The only way he can do that, is to win. So...Takekura looks over the distance, the wide chasm of a field.  _So...he'll do it._

"Kekekekeke!" Hiruma whirls around, face wildly alive. "You'd better settle the debt here and now! Scoring that impossible kick is your job, fucking old man!"

"...yeah...it doesn't matter, there's not other way to win." He smiles back, an assurance, a  _promise_.

 

The three of them began the club and team; now they'll lead it to the finish line.

Kurita huts the ball. Hiruma sets it. Takekura kicks.

 

_It's no good. At this rate, it'll barely get to the goalposts._

_You'd better be fucking ready, fatty. Since we'll create an American football team, we'll have to win no matter what._

_No, I meant, you guys look fun._

_Let's win the Christmas Bowl._

 

The cheers from the crowd are deafening. So is the sound of Hiruma's firearms going off; he tries to shoot Sena in the butt twice before just going over and kicking it hard enough to make Takekura proud. Kurita tackles him in a hug that makes his bones unhappy, squeezes all the oxygen out of his lungs then proceeds to doing the same to the rest of the team. Takekura himself is so dazed, he just stands where he is- or rather, where Kurita decides to plunk him, trying to wrap his mind around it. They  _win._

"YA-HA!"

He turns.

"Didn't I call it?" Hiruma cocks an eyebrow, a stupid, smirk-y eyebrow. "60-fucking-yard Magnum." He rips his helmet off, revealing bangs plastered against his forehead with sweat, a face flushed red with fatigue and eyes zapped with light brighter than the damn stars.  His shoulders are still shaking with adrenaline. Behind them, the team keeps screaming themselves hoarse with their victory; stadium watchers, spectators and past opponents alike continue charging onto the field to congratulate them.

Takekura doesn't really see them. He just sees the guy who's made it all happen. It's sort of like the rest of the world are fireworks going off over their heads. Maybe they light up the skies but Takekura's grounded to Earth and fine with it. What he needs, he  _has_ , standing right in front of him.

He takes a step towards him and out slips, "Yoichi."

Hiruma tenses- or more accurately, he blinks and the smile slips off his lips.

Takekura thinks of trying, _Hey. Let's celebrate-_ No. Maybe,  _I showed you a win, now I want to show you something else?-_ god, no. Every line his useless brain thinks of makes him sound like a douche, or a sleazy douche. So he makes the choice of staying shut up, yanks his helmet and his gloves off the way Hiruma already has, and jerks his head to the side. "Timeout, Captain?"

Hiruma's laugh is light. "Ha, yeah, okay." A glass window sliding between his brilliant mind and the confusion apparently Takekura wants to be so he can analyze the situation.

Takekura doesn't really have an idea where he's leading them, never mind whatever he's trying to get at. But as they cut away from the field, his mouth starts running anyways and the words pour out. "I never asked you why me."

No one is following them for some reason; maybe because the fans are more obsessed with the stars in the spotlight and not the stage crew behind the set, or maybe because they've all got the sense not to follow the two of them, looking so...Takekura knows it's own expression is tinted with nervousness, but Hiruma walks beside him and he can't see as much as he'd like out of his peripheral. And because Hiruma is silent, he continues, "I mean in middle school. You said you wanted a comrade. You knew I could kick. But there were so many people better than me in speed, power, stamina- why make me a comrade and them into minions?"

A bark of laughter; Takekura finally dares to turn his head. Hiruma is smiling straight ahead, arms folded behind his head. "Musashi."

"Yeah."

Hiruma is still stifling little laughs, but Takekura doesn't mind these ones either. "What's my favorite type of girl."

Reflexively, Takekura answers what he remembers from an interview Hiruma attended. "Someone you can use." 

"Yeah." The grass is soft under their cleats. "Who's my best friend."

This one takes Takekura a little longer; the hesitation is in his voice, he knows it. "Me?"

"Yeah." Hiruma stops walking, bending down to stare at the light snow dusting some patches of dirt. "The old drunk said he could be our club adviser but we needed 3 people for a team. I offered to find 500." Takekura snickers because it is funny. Hiruma hasn't changed since then. "But fatty said he thoughts football was fun; so should our third member. And I figured he was right. Between 500 unwilling and one useful guy, I decided the latter might be better."

Damn, the nostalgia is coming back.

_My father was a physician! His favorite saying was, practicing a kick in American Football will make a carpenter better!_

_Keke! You don't have time for club activities? You can always make some! Stop sleeping! Don't go to the washroom! Do it in your pants!_

_He'll definitely kick all of the footballs! I would!_

He laughs so hard his shoulders shake; he doesn't even feel exhausted from the game anymore. Why is everything so clear in his memory?

Hiruma smirks, like he knows exactly what the other remembers. "You asked why you? We settled on you the day you save Kurita's dumb ass. Or should I say, met it."

_The American base- the hole in the fence._

"What other fool would listen to the fatty's story and be touched by it? Ha! And then you tried to act like some cool hero on top of it."

As with all the things with Hiruma, Takekura reads between the lines and understands perfectly. Hiruma sees a bit of himself in Takekura; after all, wasn't he too swayed by Kurita?

Takekura rolls his eyes but it is fond, it is affectionate; everything is light and easy again because Hiruma always controls everything. "You were listening that day, weren't you?"

Hiruma grins up at the other. "Hey. We win the Christmas Bowl."

"Heh." Takekura looks up at the darkening sky and smiles to the galaxies above. "Yeah, we do, don't we?"

Cold fingertips brush the back of his hand. Takekura looks back down, sees Hiruma rise to a stand, slowly, with the wariness of an herbivore moving underneath the watch of a predator, interlacing their fingers. Without a second thought, Takekura locks them.

An exhale escapes Hiruma and drifts towards the skies, and then the murmured words, "What's next?"

"Like you don't know, Commander." Takekura smirks, trying to form his facial muscles around the devilish grin he's come to really love seeing. "Conquering the rest of the world of course." 

Hiruma laughs into the darkening night like a mad man, like Takekura's made an uproarious joke, like it's his job to laugh his lungs out and Takekura swiftly steps up to kiss him quiet.

Hiruma lets him. 

 


	2. I'll Go Wherever You Will Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue!
> 
> They talk and it's a little slow, a little nervous on both sides. But they talk. Hiruma puts away his guns and jokes, his walls and shields and masks, and bares his heart open, wearing nothing but his sincerity. Takekura unchains the fears and doubts from experience and memories that are meant to stay in the past, and without the extra weight, reaching for Hiruma is easy and all he wants to do.

They talk and it's a little slow, a little nervous on both sides. But they talk. Hiruma puts away his guns and jokes, his walls and shields and masks, and bares his heart open, wearing nothing but his sincerity. Takekura unchains the fears and doubts from experience and memories that are meant to stay in the past, and without the extra weight, reaching for Hiruma is easy and all he wants to do. And they make it official.

 

Of course, they also make it official to everyone else on Mamori's demand. She finds out one afternoon, when she catches them one afternoon, in the clubhouse, where Hiruma had promised they were helping Sena study for three upcoming tests all paired in one week. The funny thing is she doesn't even catch them doing anything, she just walks through the door, sees Hiruma surreptitiously retract his hand from its place on Takekura's thigh, and screeches, "Oh my god!"

(Actually, Takekura has a biting feeling Hiruma set up the whole situation the way he did because he wanted her to find out. When confronted, Hiruma likes to change the topic to the latest weapon he's purchased).

 

The World Cup is great. It's something that'll be stamped over all of their hearts forever, they all know it.

 

\--

 

Takekura misses Hiruma sometimes, more than he honestly figured he would. But Hiruma has university to study for and Takekura has heavy hours of work, increasingly less physical and more business.

But Hiruma feels it mutually. And let's him know in the most Hiruma-way possible, in the subtext of their conversations on quiet little dinner dates throughout the week, in text when he's a little lonelier than he usually cares to admit, in calls when Takekura is the same.

They make it work. Takekura reads Hiruma's advanced studies textbooks in his free time and takes full notes of everything he finds interesting; Hiruma rests his head over Takekura's shoulder to help edit complicated documents for grammar and gives him suggestions whenever he has a business problem the size of Europe. And they hang out with different members of Deimon when everyone has time to spare and no interest conflicts.

It's not perfect. But they're not at 0, Takekura thinks, as Hiruma traces an offensive play over his shoulder with a finger, hair soft, smile soft, happy; nothing in his life is at 0, and really, that's all he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean the song doesn't completely fit? And I know there already was closure? But then I was like weeelllll canon extends to the World Cup and beyond that so...I should add something? Anyways, I hope you liked reading it; I really did enjoy writing it <3
> 
> Thanks, Cat.

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter is just a short epilogue.
> 
> The whole piece was written over two days! I LOVE THIS FANDOM HELP. Thank you to any readers, and creators everywhere. This is for all of us; you, the fandom, the characters, and me :D
> 
> Love, Cat


End file.
